Kolchak The Nylon Stalker Yule Tide Me Over A Stalking Stuffer
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We Need To Talk Chapter 4 free porn video
Chapter 4
A couple weeks later I came home on a Saturday afternoon after a hard day
of washing dishes. Every droplet of moisture was sucked from my mouth and
throat when I saw a new Camaro parked in my spot in the driveway. I
pulled my GEO Prizm up to the curb and could feel my body shutting down.
I really really didn't want to turn off the car...I knew there was a man,
a real man, in my house. I didn't want to confront him. Should I leave
them alone...fuck! My wife...the love of my life...is in there with a
strange man!
My emotions were running wild...more so than ever in my life. I have
never been more paralyzed! I couldn't fucking move! I couldn't even turn
my car off!
My car...I hated my fucking car. My wife gave me "my car" about a year
into our fantasy life. She thought it would be cute if I traded in my new
4Runner for a stripped down used purple Prizm, and she traded her Camry
for a BMW, as it would add a new dynamic to our kinky lifestyle.
Apparently it wasn't stripped down enough because the first thing she had
me do was remove the cheap radio.
I finally found the energy to shut off the ignition. My body was nothing
but jello as fear and jealousy coursed through my body. The act of moving
my arm from the steering wheel to the door handle was more than I could
bear. My emotions ran wild as I wondered if any of the neighbors saw this
guy come to my house...or how many times this epitome of testosterone sat
in clear view of the neighbors, parked in the driveway, leaving no doubt
to who he was visiting. A beacon to all of my wife's adultery, and my
impotence.
It took everything I had to finally walk to the back door (the servants
door as my wife likes to call it), my rubbery legs barely able to carry
my weight. I walk to the kitchen door....it seemed like an eternity
before I finally made it to the door. Time stood still, a second an hour,
a minute an eternity. The panic was overwhelming as I walked slowly
through the door.
"Get in here boy!" my wife yells.
I freeze, paralyzed. My mouth goes dry as my emotions overtake me. I
can't even close the door, my body begins to shake uncontrollably - the
door knob in my hand my only source of strength and stability.
"FUCK!" I scream as I let go of the door and grab in vain at her little
dicklette, doubling over in pain.
As soon as the pain subsided I close the door and run into the living
room. I find myself paralyzed again as I enter the living room.
"Well get in here boy!" my wife orders, her thumb lazily rubbing the the
button of the shocker remote while the other hand signals with a near
empty glass of white wine. I quickly take my place to her side with my
eyes to the floor.
"You know Eric," my wife states.
Eric Stanton. One of those guys that everyone notices when he walks in
the room. A tall imposing man at 6'5", well built, and very good looking.
He's the owner of a chain of upscale restaurants in the area, including
the one I work at.
"Good evening Mr. Stanton," I say weakly.
"Hello Richie," his voice booms.
I see his big strong calves sticking out from the robe he's wearing. His
feet look incredibly large next to my wife's, as she playfully rubs her
foot on one of his. The man chair he's sprawled out in looks ridiculously
small as it fails to contain his large frame.
"Would you like another beer Eric?" my wife asks.
"Sure Diane," he booms.
"Go fetch us some drinks boy," she says, handing me her empty glass and
waving me off.
"Yes Ms. Harrison," I reply, calling her by her maiden name as
instructed. "...Not only will you be paying me the proper respect, but
you'll also be acknowledging to me, to yourself, and to the man I'll be
fucking that you have no right to any part of me."
I return with my silver tray and place the frosty mug of dark beer on the
table beside Mr. Stanton and quickly take my place next to my wife,
holding the tray before her. My wife is captivated as Mr. Stanton
describes the summer he spent sailing the Caribbean. I struggle to hold
the tray before her. After a couple more minutes my wife reaches over and
takes a sip of wine. I feel so incredibly relieved as I place the tray to
my side. The relief is quickly replaced by humiliation and a very deep
feeling of submission. As I stare at the ground my mind races
uncontrollably: I haven't sat in that chair for years, they must have
just fucked, jealous rage, she looks satisfied and wanton at the same
time, damn his feet are fucking huge, I know they don't make fuck-me-
pumps in his size, he's probably never been made to wear toe nail polish,
mine are red at the moment, I feel so inferior to him, I know he's fucked
my wife! His dick must be huge, I feel stupid standing here - totally
ignored. I want to leave, I want to stay, I want to grab my wife and
protect her from him, I want to kick his ass out of MY house!
After a couple minutes my wife snaps her finger and points to the ground
in front of her where I quickly take my place. She grabs my hair and
guides my head between her legs, and covers my head with the long hem of
her satin lingerie. I recognize the musky smell of his cum mixed with
hers. I'm filled with disgust, forced to touch her sopping wet panties so
I can push them to the side. Their conversation continues like I don't
exist.
I know what my job is; I'm not here to get her off, I'm here to clean his
spunk out of her pussy. Their conversation continues while her husband is
kneeling between her legs, their flirting continues while her husbands is
cleaning his spunk out of her pussy with his tongue. My whole world has
been turned upside down. I'm so fucking humiliated. I fight back tears as
my wife flirts with my boss, my throat tight making it hard for me to
clean his cum out of her pussy!
My existence is finally acknowledged when my wife pushes my face away
from her.
"You smell like garbage. Go take a shower, put on what I've put out for
you, and get your ass back here."
Stark terror fills my soul as I imagine what she has put out for me to
wear. I really really don't want to do this!
"But Ms.-" I'm quickly shutdown by a hard smack across my face.
She points and I quickly run to my room where I fall on the bed and start
bawling, completely overwhelmed by all the emotions that have flooded my
soul in the last half hour. I throw the silly maids uniform and stockings
on the floor, even that act of defiance emasculates me as the light
stocking wrap around my arms and I have to shake my arms a couple times
before the slowly drift to the floor.
After a few minutes I've calmed down a little when my wife sits beside me
and gently rubs my head.
"Come now," she says gently guiding my head to bosom. I can't help but to
wrap my arms around her and hold her tighter than I've ever held her
before. I let lose and really start bawling again. After a couple minutes
I begin to calm down and my wife begins to talk to me.
"I love what we have sweetheart, and I do love you very much, although
it's not like the love you have for me. Now when you suggested a femdom
lifestyle I thought it was silly and I really didn't want to do this, but
you kept talking me into trying it...and then it became a part of me. I
will always have a submissive in my life. I really want him to be you.
You're probably thinking of leaving right now. If you did decide to leave
it would be very painful for me, but I would eventually get over it and
I'd get a new sub. It would be sad to lose the investment I have in you.
Richie, I've gotten used to living the life of a princess. While you're
toiling away doing all the menial chores I get to relax, go shopping, go
out with my friends, go to the gym, go on a cruise. I just smile when my
friends bitch about how little their husbands do around the house,
thinking about my bitch at home slaving away. All the other wives have to
compete with their husbands for the fun money. Their men have their
motorcycles, boats, golf, all the big expensive boy toys. I don't allow
you to play with boy toys, so instead of you riding around on a $15,000
Harley I get $5,000 in clothes and jewelry, $5,000 for my vacation fund,
$4,000 in my bank account, and $1,000 in bondage gear and sexy clothes to
turn you on; such a small investment to keep you in your place. Instead
of you paying for golf, you pay for my gym membership and a private
trainer."
She stands up.
"I know you massage me all the time, but I want you to feel my calves
Richie."
I kneel down and wrap my hand around her tan, well toned calf. As my hand
softly caresses her silky calf she flexes her foot. God she has perfect
legs.
"Now my thighs. Wrap your hands these silky thighs. This is what an hour
to two everyday at the gym can do."
My hands begin to shake as I caress her powerful thighs.
"Grab my ass. You worship it all the time, now I'm giving you permission
to grab it like you were my man. That's an ass you can only get when you
have a trainer. This is a body you can only get by spending hours a week
at the gym. I wouldn't have a body like this if I had to do all the
menial chores that you take care of."
I reach around and grab her perfect ass.
"Now wrap your hand around my waste," she says as she places her hands on
my shoulder.
"Isn't this what you wanted?" her soft husky voice whispering in my ear,
sending chills down my spine.
"To worship a body like this and yet be denied access to it at the same
time. To be my little bitch. To be used and humiliated. To be controlled
by an incredibly hot sexy woman who knows how to twist and manipulate
you, knows how to dominate you, knows exactly what you need."
"Now I know you're thinking this is too much for you and you want want it
all to stop now. This is what your life is going to be like with me,
forever. I have my own needs, my sexual needs that will be fulfilled. You
need to make your choice on whether you want to keep living like this or
you want to leave. It would really hurt me if you left, and I'll strictly
enforce our post-nup."
"Now I'm going out dancing with Eric and I want you to think about your
decision while you're on your perch. If you want to stay with me you'll
change your ring, take a shower, change into these clothes and clean my
room. If you decide to leave then you can pack your male clothes and and
wait for me in the entry way. If you do decide to stay, you'll be
punished for disobeying me."
"Please ma'am. I don't want to stand on my perch."
"This isn't about what you want. This is about what you need darling. Now
do you have anything else you want to say?"
"May I please wear my sexy fuck me pumps ma'am?" I ask.
"Yes sweetie, you can wear your sexy little shoes - after you strip down
to your girly things," she says gently.
After I put on my 5" red stiletto's my wife guides my face to my
perch...a specially designed dildo protruding from the corner. After my
lips are covering the sensor my wife walks over and sets the timer. My
wife walks back to me and whispers in my ear while rubbing the crack of
my ass with her fingers, "I hope you make the right decision and stay
with me dear. It would be such a shame if I had to train another lucky
little slave."
"I want you to think about all the kinky adventures I've taken you on.
Think about the leather, the chains. Think about the hours you get to
spend locked in your special cage, or the hours of predicament bondage
you've enjoyed. Think about the hours you spend worshiping my body. Think
about all the things I do to you that get you so fucking hot, get you so
fucking deep into your own depravity you can't even speak. Do you think
you can live without that?"
She seductively kisses and licks my ear, sending shivers throughout my
body, and walks away.
I have no idea how long I'm going to be stuck here. If my lips or mouth
aren't on the sensor her little dicklette will get shocked by the ever-
present electrodes mounted in my chastity belt. I have no choice but to
stand in the corner until the timer goes off, whenever that is. If I
didn't ask to wear my fuck-me-pumps I would be struggling to stay up on
my tip-toes.
Fuck I hate standing standing in the corner like this. I hate how
realistic this dildo is, I hate the feeling of a fat cock in my mouth! My
wife is out enjoying herself with another man, with a man that just got
done fucking her, while I'm standing in the corner in a pair of fucking
pumps sucking on a dildo! The taste of Mr. Stanton's cum mixed with my
wife's juices adding to my humiliation.
Fuck this...I'm not doing this anymore.
I barely get my lips off the sensor when I scream and shove my mouth back
to its appointed spot.
...My wife handed me a very thick and very realistic dildo, "Can you put a
sensor in this that can tell when your mouth is over it, and that can
trigger a remote if your mouth leaves the spot? It can only work if your
mouth is over it, not your hand."
With my background in electrical engineering she knew it wouldn't be a
problem.
She slid the cock in my mouth until I started gagging and then pulled it
out a little. "I want your lips right here," wrapping a piece of tape
around the cock.
A month later when I showed her the prototype she had me put on my
sluttiest, highest heels and slid the cock in my mouth. After directing
me to the corner and ensuring my head was perfectly straight she put a
mark in the corner where she wanted her cock mounted.
After I had it mounted I showed my wife the controls. Basically it had a
timer, a light to signal when her little dicklette was getting shocked,
the power level knob for the remote, and a start and stop button. Then I
showed her a feature I added as a surprise. I placed another sensor at
the tip and a timer that would force me to bob my head back and forth
over the length of her cock, giving the cock a blow job. My wife seemed
amused as I explained the feature to her.
"Well get your mouth on your boyfriend and let's see it in action."
I quickly run over to put on a pair of stiletto's. When I was bent over
buckling the thin straps my wife calmly walked over and kicked me on the
side knocking me over. She placed her boot on my throat and stared down
at me.
"Who told you you could put on your sexy little fuck-me pumps bitch?"
"Nobody ma'am," I replied.
She stared down at me with her boot on my neck for an eternity, my
submission and fear growing stronger with each silent second as I
struggled to breath.
"If you'd like to wear your sexy fuck-me pumps then you need ask me first
slut?"
"May I please wear my sexy fuck-me pumps ma'am?" I squeak out, terror
starting to overcome me.
She stares down at me, her expression cold and unrevealing.
After another eternity of my wife staring down at me with her boot
pressed firmly against my neck. "Yes slut, you can wear your sexy fuck-me
pumps. But since this is your first time with your boyfriend you need to
wear one your little slutty outfits as well," finally pulling her boot
off my neck.
She reaches down and scrunches my cheeks together. "And don't forget to
wear your slutty red lipstick whore."
I got dressed and took my place before the dildo. I heard the chirps
signifying the timer has started and immediately began to mouth fuck the
dildo. My wife walked over to me and gently placed her hand on the back
of my head. After a few strokes she pressed my head into the dildo, not
allowing me to continue the stroke. I screamed into the dildo and tried
desperately to pull my head back while my wife laughed, releasing my
head. She watched me mouth fuck the dildo for a couple more minutes, both
pulling my head away from the dildo and forcing my mouth to stay on the
dildo laughing at my predicament each time her dicklette was fried.
"You earned a full cummies next time. Start dinner when you're done
skull-fucking your new boyfriend slut," she said laughing as she walked
out the door, leaving me to my cruel task for another very long 15
minutes....
What were they doing, where were they at?
I always fantasized about living a femdom lifestyle. I had no idea she
would take it this far. She has brought to fruition all of my wildest
fantasies and so much more. She has become the epitome of a femdom wife,
beyond anything I've ever fantasised. God I barely remember the last time
I fucked her, or what a satisfying orgasms feels like. Fuck!, I can't
even remember what her little dicklette looks like. The only thing I
remember is that the last time I touched it, if you can call rubbing it
with leather gloves through satin panties, I rubbed it like a clit.
Jealousy rips through my body in waves; tears roll down my cheek and I
struggle to keep my lips pressed around her cock as I cry; my imagination
creating graphic images of my wife being ravaged by my macho boss.
The timer finally goes off and I pull my dry mouth off the dildo. I feel
completely spent both physically and emotionally. The only thing I feel I
can do is climb into my bed and curl up into the fetal position, but
without hesitation I mince over to the dresser, apply my lipstick, curtsy
before my wife's picture, and exchange rings. I'm forced to stare at our
first kiss as husband and wife, my mind creates a scene of Mr. Stanton
shoving his tongue down my wife's throat.
I think about what wearing a wedding ring signifies to the wearer, to
everyone around them; you belong to someone, and is usually paired with
the fact that someone also belongs to you...a couple belongs exclusively
to each other. The realization that I belong to her, while she doesn't
belong to me, is ingrained into my being as I slide my wife's rings over
my finger. Somehow I feel even more owned that ever as I later attach my
collar around my neck; I belong to her - property.
I stop to take a look at my reflection in the mirror before I perform my
appointed duties. A pink maids cap pinned to my hair, a pink and white
slutty maids uniform that barely covers my ass, the petticoat making it
more feminine, matching pink stockings, white 4" heels with a strap
across the foot, and a small pink purse for my phone. Matching pink
lipstick (did I subconsciously plan that?). Not a male, not a female. I'm
terrified doing my chores knowing my macho boss could walk in at any time
and see me like this.
My imagination runs wild as I pick up her clothes which are thrown around
her bedroom. The smell of her perfume is intoxicating, sensual; of course
she has never worn it for me. I think of his big hands ripping clothes
off my wife while she transforms into a wanton slut, the buttons of her
torn blouse are all over the floor; it will take me hours to sew the
buttons back on. I imagine his big arms wrapped around her, fumbling with
the delicate zipper of her skirt as I bend down to pick it up. I hold it
in front of me and remember how hot she looked the couple of times she's
worn these out, and how she teased and tormented me as I knelt before her
putting them on. Was it him that she was going to go see after I kissed
her ass before she walked out the door in these?
Images of them locked in carnal embrace, his tongue filling my wife's
mouth, my wife's lipstick smeared on his lips. I pick up her bra,
stockings, and garter. My mind goes off on it's own showing me vivid
images of my wife having her clothes pulled roughly from her, heavy
breathing as she unbuckles the belt of his trousers, his large hands
roughly squeezing her tender breasts.. When I pick up her panties I can
feel the cold dampness from when she was dripping with hot passionate
desire. I can hear her sultry voice as she begs him to fuck her. She must
feel like she's being crushed when he's on top of her. I pick up the robe
he was wearing, XXL. My wife has a mans robe in every size, I've never
worn any of them but will soon wash every one of them.
There's nothing more emasculating than changing your wife's soiled sheets
after she has fucked your boss, while you're dressed as a maid; I've said
to myself, "There's nothing more emasculating..." many times, only to be
proven wrong again and again by my creative wife. I'm reminded constantly
how ridiculous I look by the many mirrors in her bedroom as I watch
myself scurrying around with her clothes. The smell of her sweet perfume
mixes with his cologne, musky sweat and cum fill the air. Her bed is a
complete mess and covered in sweat and cum. I put on fresh sheets
wondering if I'll be doing the same thing tomorrow after I get home from
washing dishes.
Can I handle this?
I'm further emasculated as I vacuum her room, my heel marks mixed with
hers, indistinguishable from hers, mixed with his massive shoe marks and
bare feet marks. I can't help but to stand next to his imprint and step
back, it looks like another woman was standing by his side. I quickly
vacuum away the evidence of my emasculation, turning towards the full
length mirror I realize the futility - the evidence is everywhere.
Am I strong enough for this?
It was a little after 2:00 when I heard the Camaro pull in the driveway.
Overwhelming panic set in, paralyzing me. I really can't take this
anymore! I struggle to move, shaking, sweating, mouth dry. Terror rips
through me, fear of the unknown, fear of everything my mind could
imagine. Is he going to come in with her?? I make it to the door just in
time. My wife walks in and hands me her purse. She turns and my shaking
hands remove her leather jacket. I hear the car backing out of the
driveway and relief like I've never felt before washes over me, washing
away the fear, dread, and anxiety. She faces me and I quickly drop to my
knees, my lips paying due respect to her sexy red sandals.
"I'm so glad you decided to stay. You may sleep with me tonight. I talked
Eric into giving you the day off tomorrow, isn't he so nice?"
"Yes ma'am. Thank you ma'am," I reply, her foot brushing against my
lips and face as she walks away.
"Don't thank me, thank him," she says turning towards me with a wicked
grin.
Hortense
- 27.02.2020
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